Stolen Smiles
by Sherlockdetective99
Summary: For Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy, a world without the smiles of little Alfred and Matthew seems like a world too cruel to live in. Written in memory of the young children and school staff involved in the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre that took place on December 14, 2012.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**_

_**To any single one who may feel insulted or displeased at this story and wish to tell me so, please scroll to the bottom and read my note before you leave a review.  
**_

* * *

_8:25 a.m._

"Bye-bye Artie! We're going to school!"

"You fool Alfred! Don't stick your head out the window! It's dangerous!"

The small seven year old boy gave his signature laugh of confidence as he ignored his guardian's advice and continued to flag his arm in an overenthusiastic display of farewell from the yellow school bus he sat within.

"Don't worry Artie! I'll be fine! I'm the hero!"

Arthur Kirkland could only watch in dismay as the wheels began to grind forwards, slowly trudging away from the sidewalk he stood on. He noted, with some grudging satisfaction, that at least the boy's twin brother Matthew was making an attempt to pull his sibling back from the window and towards safety.

"Take care of your brother Mathieu! Don't let him tear the school down!"

Arthur ground his teeth as he glared towards the Frenchman standing behind him, obviously completely carefree to the dangerous situation that was present right in front of his stupid bearded face.

"Bloody git! What kind of an example are you setting!" And with that statement, he sent a heavy blow to the back of the man's head.

Alfred laughed at the comedic display, the distraction just enough for Matthew to give a sharp yank and send them both tumbling back into their seat.

"OW! Mattie, what was that for!"

"A-Al, it's not safe to do that. You'll get hurt."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief to see Alfred's small head finally disappearing back into the safety of the bus. Francis, pouting as he rubbed the spot where he had been so violently hit, straightened up in time to give them a final wave.

"Bye-Bye!" Both kids shouted, one drastically louder than the other, and the two men smiled to see the excited grins on the boys' faces as they slowly drew further and further away. Other parents around them gave similar farewells, watching with fond affection at the departure of their precious children before the school bus took a turn and disappeared around the corner.

"Well, there they go. Let us return, shall we?"

Francis smiled as he turned to depart, only to stop abruptly and frown as he realized that Arthur had not followed him.

"Arthur? What is wrong? Have the children forgotten something?"

For a while, the Englishman did not respond, only staring up at the clouds with an expression of intense concern, one filled with emotions that Francis could not completely comprehend. Yet he knew better than to interrupt the thoughts of his long time rival, and for a period of silence, he observed the man in quiet puzzlement, waiting for the curious reverie to be finally broken.

It was only after a minute or so that Arthur finally looked away from the sky and spoke.

"It… it can't be…" He muttered, his concern having quickly evolved to a rapidly growing worry.

"It can't?" Francis inquired, having not been enlightened in the slightest by the statement.

"The clouds… they foretell a terrible omen."

The Frenchman scoffed at the words and patted his companion lightly on the back as he voiced his thought on the matter.

"Ah, you and your crazy ramblings again. My friend, none of the so-called omens you've predicted have ever been correct."

Arthur glared at him and smacked his hand away, thoroughly irritated.

"Yes they most certainly have! You certainly can't forget the time you fell off the ladder and broke your leg after I warned you about a terrible accident!"

"You are aware that the reason I fell was because you 'unintentionally' slipped and knocked it over?"

Arthur flushed slightly at the words and furiously tried to think of another instance to prove his argument.

"Well… what about that time Matthew fell through the ice skating! I definitely foretold that!"

"And it was you who broke the ice in that exact spot the previous night when you threw a bottle out the window in your drunken spell."

"Y-You were the one who forced me to drink in the first place! And anyways, there was also the moose that broke through our fence and nearly flattened us into a wall!"

And very soon in the midst of their argument, they forgot just what had started their conflict in the first place, causing Arthur himself to forget about the worry that had plagued him just minutes earlier. Still incensed and spitting insults at each other in their rather common hourly disputes, they marched on towards their respective houses, screaming profanities at each other all the way while pedestrians could only shake their heads and proclaim to each other: "There they are again!"

But lives change as swiftly as the weather. And although Francis had been accurate in shooting down every single one of Arthur's previous omens, it was only today that he would be wrong for the first and last time.

For just this once, Arthur was correct.

The clouds were changing quickly.

The storm was approaching fast, and every single citizen in that peaceful little town remained to be shaken by the devastation it would leave in its wake.

* * *

_9:25 a.m._

"Mattie! Look!"

"W-What is it, Al?"

The shorter-haired boy grinned so widely Matthew could only wonder how his face contained it all as he felt a piece of paper thrust into his face.

"Here! I drew it! Isn't it awesome?!"

Matthew tentatively backed away slightly so that he could actually see just what had been drawn. It was a typical crudely illustrated picture of Alfred himself in a shining super hero suit, and the explosion of colours that surrounded the figure like a rainbow of halos threatened to blind his soft violet eyes.

"Alf, that's what you draw every day."

"No! It's different this time! Look closer!"

Matthew gave a soft sigh, but obliged to his brother's enthusiastic request. But on the second glance, he did indeed realize there was something else in the picture.

"I-Is that me?"

"Yup!"

"W-Why am I behind you? And why am I so little?"

Alfred huffed indignantly as though the answer was obvious.

"Because I'm protecting you, duh! A hero protects everyone, but especially his little brother!"

Matthew released a second sigh, but couldn't help but smile to hear the "hero's" words. Wild and uncontrollable as he was, at least Alfred always remembered he was there. Most people, even the teachers, tended to forget he existed, much less think of trying to protect him.

"We were born on the same day though Al. Not even Arthur or Papa know who's older."

"But it's obvious! The hero has to be older!"

Matthew relented. He could never win an argument with Alfred. But he still smiled as his "older" brother leapt on to him and they tumbled across the floor in a knot of hugs and sibling affection.

* * *

_9:30 a.m._

Outside the school, a figure clad in black stood on the grass, watching the building with cold, sinister eyes. He felt under his shirt for the one of many firearms he'd hidden on his body.

_Today._

Smirking, he began to make his move.

* * *

_9:35 a.m._

"Got you Mattie!"

"Al! Y-You're too heavy!"

Alfred gave a fake growl as he pretended to play his part as the monster.

"I've caught you now! And I'm going to eat you! Unless a hero comes and saves you of course!"

Matthew giggled as he pushed his twin off of himself and harmlessly onto the carpet.

"How can you be a monster and hero at the same time?"

"Um… I don't know! But… it can happen somehow!"

"Al-"

_Bang._

The classroom that had just been filled with smiles and laughter seconds before suddenly fell silent, and the children could only stare in dumbstruck horror, frozen with terror and confusion as the first shots rang throughout the halls of the school.

"All of you! Get under you chairs! Now!"

The children were slow to respond, too weighted by fear to properly comprehend their teacher's commands. Chaos reigned, little boys and girls ran in all directions, crying and sobbing for their parents as they remained terrified by the danger they sensed was coming but could not understand.

"Mattie! This way!"

But Matthew had been frozen by fear, and he stared wide-eyed at the door, too afraid to even move away from danger. And so Alfred, as scared as he was, grabbed his brother by the arm and heaved him across the room in an incredible feat of strength for a young seven year old.

"Wake up Mattie! Don't just stand there, come on!"

And finally, Alfred had managed to drag his dumbfounded brother into a corner and there they waited, huddled together, watching the chaos and confusion with wide eyes, innocence tainted by overwhelming fear as the teacher continued to try and bring order to the room.

"Listen, all of you! We'll be fine, don't cry, and don't be scared. Come here, back up against the wall and we'll all be ok!"

This time, her words seemed to have some effect, and with much effort, all the young children in the room were pressed against the wall and rendered more or less silent, broken only by the occasional sniffle or whimper of terror.

Several minutes of tension passed, the air strained by a fragile fearful silence, heavy with cold uncertainty. Eventually, even the sniffles died away and a long buried survival instinct resurfaced within these young minds, begging for the need to be absolutely quiet, to hide from the impending danger that continued to exist, god forbid, somewhere within the corners of their school.

Alfred and Matthew were squeezed the furthest into the corner, a barricade of their classmates huddled in front of them. The latter was hyperventilating, eyes filling with tears that could just barely be prevented from falling. Alfred, utterly terrified himself, nonetheless still found the courage within him to push himself in front of his brother and press him further against the wall out of subconscious memory of the picture he'd drawn mere minutes before this had begun.

"It's alright Mattie. I'm the hero, remember? I said I'd protect you. No one's gonna hurt us."

Matthew struggled to contain a sob as he buried his head into his brother's back, his tiny hands clinging tightly to the fabric of Alfred's superman shirt. If they ever needed a hero, then he couldn't think of a better time than now.

Minutes continued to tick by, each one seeming longer than the previous. By now, the children had calmed enough to quietly whisper to each other, mumbling in faded voices that the teacher did her best to shush.

"Not now, children. Don't talk now, just a little longer, we have to wait for the bad guy to go away first, then we'll be fine-"

_Bang._

The teacher staggered, eyes wide open, crimson dribbling down what had once been her forehead. She collapses backwards, her mouth trembling and attempting in her last moments to comfort the children in her care before her body hit the ground and did not move again.

The children, the little girls and boys, none of them over eight years old, had no time to react. No time to scream, no time to even cry for their mothers and fathers. Only the widening of eyes, only the expressions of horror, before a spray of bullets ripped through the thin wall of the classroom.

Screams ran wild.

"Mattie!"

Sobs sounded everywhere.

"Al!"

Then there was silence.

Only silence.

Stuffed animals lay ruined. Learning books ripped. Crudely drawn crayon pictures of families holding hands fell to the floor, stained and speckled in red.

Silence.

* * *

_10:00 a.m._

Arthur Kirkland dropped the phone and ran to the door before the device had even clattered against the ground, throwing it open and leaping off the stairs before his shoes had been properly attached. Francis poked his head out the window of the adjacent house, frowning at the sudden unusual display.

"Arthur, just what are you-"

"THERE'S BEEN A FUCKING SHOOTING! ALFRED AND MATTHEW!"

Francis needed no further prompting. He simply leapt out the window he'd been shouting from, not even bothering to exit through the door.

The two father figures raced to their cars and wheeled them sharply out of their garages, barely missing each other in the process. Their vehicles hurtled through the road at a velocity that shook the very lawns of their neighbours, many of which were hurriedly rushing out of houses themselves.

The same silent thought ran through the terrified mind of every parent on the street.

_Please, let my child be ok._

* * *

_10:10 a.m._

Chaos was everywhere.

Parents crowded the streets, squeezing between cars, abandoning their own vehicles in the middle of the roads to swarm towards the fire department. Arthur and Francis struggled to make their way through panicked mothers and fathers, older brother and sisters. They had been told their children were here.

But that wasn't all. Rumours were circling that at least 27 had been killed, 20 of them young children. The same cold lump of fear sat in the chest of every frantic guardian, driving them delirious with terror and desperation for their precious young ones, their loved ones, their friends and family.

Entering the building, there was barely space to breathe as they crammed themselves into the hallways, each one searching for their own child, their own charges, their own siblings.

"Lili!"

A tiny little girl with blonde braids, barely five years old, heard her older brother's frantic cry and ran sobbing towards the sound of his voice. The boy, perhaps ten years older than she was, rushed forwards to sweep her into his arms, his mouth moving in silent prayer as he thanked the heavens for the safety of his little sister. Arthur recognized him as Vash Zwingli, the young teen that lived just fives houses away whose parents were currently out of the town.

As far as the eye could see, boys and girls were running to their parents and older siblings. Little Ludwig sobbed terrified into the shoulder of his brother Gilbert, who did his best to comfort his cries. Young Peter from one of the kindergarten classes curled in the arms of his father Berwald, and the latter's normal terrifying scowl was for once a mere frown of both concern and relief. The Asiatic siblings, Kiku, Yong Soo, Hong and Mei in order from oldest to youngest raced frantically towards their eldest brother Yao, who had tears of relief in his eyes as he wrapped them in his arms, locking them in a hold that seemed impossible to pry away.

But neither Arthur nor Francis had found the ones they'd been looking for. Their eyes scanned frantically between rows and rows of children, their gazes searching desperately for the familiar twin faces that had just been smiling to them this very morning. Where were they? They had to be here, they had to be here…

"Alfred Jones! Matthew Williams! Where are they?! Do you know of them!?" Arthur shouted to the nearest police officer, who flinched slightly at the rage and worry clouding the man's furious green eyes.

"…Jones… and Williams? Are they… twins?"

"Yes they fucking are!" Arthur screamed, in no mood for patience.

The officer's face fell, and both grown men felt everything in their world shatter before them as they registered his change in expression.

"…Please come this way."

* * *

_10:30 a.m._

"You're kidding me… you're bloody kidding me…"

Francis closed his eyes and placed a hand on the Englishman's shoulder. In his arms, wrapped loosely in blankets, shivering and trembling, was little Matthew, eyes wide and tainted with eternal horror.

"Al… Where's Al…? H-He protected me… like he said he would… Where is he?"

That seemed to be all the boy could say. Over and over and over again, the same words, all about his twin brother. And Francis just did not know how to reply.

Police found the bloodstained classroom, the walls dyed in crimson, small bodies scattered about the once colourful carpet among books and toys and ruined drawings. The sight was sickening. At least one officer had needed to leave the room to vomit. Innocent young blood, tender young lives, sweet beautiful little souls… all of them gone forever more.

Except for one.

Matthew had been found huddled in the corner, crying and shaking a twin brother that would never wake up. A twin brother that had been a hero to the end, rooting himself in front of his "little" brother, and in whose body the police men had found a bullet that would have hit the other boy had he moved even slightly from the spot.

Arthur Kirkland would not allow himself to believe it.

Alfred was going to be a hero. He was going to grow up and save lives, he was going to go down in history as a brave and courageous saviour.

He wasn't supposed to have been shot by a madman at the tender age of seven.

Just two hours and five minutes ago, he'd seen the boy smiling at him and laughing good bye. Just two hours ago, Alfred had been alive and Matthew had been whole.

Just two hours ago, the twins had been together.

But they'd held hands for the last time.

And the space left behind could never be filled.

"Al… he was a hero… he's coming back… isn't he?"

And that was when Arthur Kirkland broke down into a mess of hysterical tears.

Just two hours ago, he'd seen Alfred smile.

And those smiles had been stolen forever.

* * *

**I want to announce, first and foremost, that I in no way am trying to take advantage of such a tragic situation to find inspiration for writing this fanfiction. I know some people believe that fanfiction shouldn't be used for real life, and in most cases I would agree.**

**But please listen to me when I say this is different. This fanfiction was not written for my sake, but for the memory of the children, 20 beautiful, wonderful young lives filled with cheer and joy that were taken from the world forever. They were young, innocent, sinless, and now they will never smile again because of one lunatic who used the weapons meant to protect in order to kill. His bullets took these lives, the lives of the courageous teachers and staff that did everything in their power to protect their students and pupils, the lives that did not deserve to be ended yesterday. **

**And so I beg to those who read this, please don't flame me and understand that I write this in their memory, so that we can see how quickly lives can change, the terror and grief that the distraught parents had to endure, the relief that the lucky did experience, the horror that tainted the eyes of the survivors and the death that took the ones that never came out alive. These characters we know and love, and so perhaps you can relate to them and understand that what happened yesterday was indeed a horrible tragedy, one that was senseless, meaningless, and horribly wrong in every sense of the word.**

**Yesterday, twenty seven lives, twenty young children were taken in the most horrific way possible. Please remember them, mourn for them, and send their loved ones your support. Show their grieving families that no matter how cruel this evil world can be, there will always be our love and hope.**

**It is with a heavy heart that I end this note, and I extend my most heartfelt condolences to those families forever affected by this horrific tragedy.**

**Sherlockdetective99, signing out.**


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